


Trial by Mini-Quiches

by Quinara



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen, season: b6, summer_of_spike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-27
Updated: 2005-08-27
Packaged: 2017-10-02 02:55:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinara/pseuds/Quinara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clem saves the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trial by Mini-Quiches

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the LJ community summer_of_spike in August 2005.

The function room above Willy’s was the venue of choice for the less sophisticated amongst Sunnydale’s demon population. As such, it had suffered from some very poor decoration choices in its time.

And _this_, Spike thought sourly, was no exception.

Pink fairy lights festooned the walls, casting a sickly glow onto the crowd of demons below. The worst off were the groom’s clan, the Grosnarks, whose green skin was turned a dark sludge-brown. None of them seemed to mind, though, and the whole family were dancing quite happily, with everyone else, to ‘Come On, Eileen’.

Spike sneered from his corner, watching one of the Grosnarks try to impress a female Snorfleuve (possessing a pair of very large, very _fake_ nasal appendages) with his attempt at the Robot. Spike wondered, not for the first time that night, just what the hell he was doing there.

Knocking back his cup of wine, he fought his way over to the buffet table for another. No one spoke to him as he shoved them out of the way, but that wasn’t surprising – he’d been treated to silence all through the service as well. He wasn’t sure whether it was because of his reputation, or because of the rather menacing bruises that covered his face. Either way, he didn’t mind.

It was still a mystery why Judith had even invited him in the first place. He hadn’t seen her since her _last_ wedding, to Vomit-Boy, back in the Fifties. He and Dru hadn’t exactly been good guests then, either. They’d killed the caterers and blown off most of the reception – to find Florence’s better nightlife.

If only he hadn’t received the invitation the same night he and Buffy had first kissed. As it was, he hadn’t been thinking straight, and could hardly be blamed for sending off the RSVP without reading it first.

He’d forgotten about it afterwards, of course. He’d only caught sight of it the other morning, wedged underneath the sofa, after he’d crawled home and collapsed with his head right next to it. It’d been the same putrid colour as the fairy lights, with a picture of the blown-up Sunnydale High on the front and the line _“We’re getting married at the Hellmouth!”_ in swirly writing.

In the end, he’d come because he’d thought there might be some free blood and booze.

There wasn’t.

Well, actually, there _was_ booze, if you counted wine that tasted like it’d come out of a carton, which Spike didn’t.

The lack of blood was a bit more of a disappointment, though, and proved that Judith was still trying to convince the world that she wasn’t a vampire. It wouldn’t have been so bad if the rest of the buffet weren’t so terrible.

Looking at the pitiful array of chips, finger-sandwiches (some with actual fingers) and kitten-tails-on-sticks, Spike abandoned his paper plate with pink roses on the rim, and grabbed some more wine, pouring several of the little plastic cups in together.

He headed back to his corner, breaking through a conga line with a growl and a flash of gold in his eyes. The DJ, after a long, stilted silence, changed the music to Soft Cell’s ‘Tainted Love’, and some nearby demons started singing along. Spike groaned. He hadn’t expected the Buzzcocks or anything, but he’d been hoping for a different decade at least.

He’d really hated the Eighties – all those people he’d had to kill because of the Billy Idol cracks. It’d got so _boring_ after a while.

And besides, whiny love songs just made him think of –

A demon in a green suit retreated into him.

“Sorry, buddy,” he said quickly over his shoulder, before snapping a photo on a disposable camera. He wound it on and passed it back to a Grosnark – the same one that’d been doing the Robot earlier.

Spike growled, and the demon turned around again, seeming to recognise him. “Oh, hey – Spike, right?” He stuck out a flabby hand. “Clem. We met at that poker-game a while back.”

Spike looked down, and then back up again. He blinked (which, though nicely expressive, was still quite painful). The hand didn’t waver, and the demon smiled more widely. Spike blinked again.

“O…kay…” ‘Clem’ said after a couple more seconds, withdrawing his hand. He picked up a plate of food from a nearby table and bit a kitten-tail off a stick, following it with a couple of Cheetos. “So,” he said, wiping his hand across his face, “Tork never said you were coming.”

“Who?” Spike asked. He tried to ignore the orange dust collecting in the folds of the demon’s hand.

Clem paused for a moment. “Uh, the _groom_?”

“Oh. Right.” Spike took another gulp of wine. He hoped that the demon would go away on his own, but Clem didn’t move, just looked at him earnestly. “Er, he didn’t invite me. The bride did – cousins, and all.”

“_Oh_!” Clem said, biting into a sandwich. Something blue oozed out of it. “Yeah, Tork said Judy had family coming.”

“Right.” Spike was beginning to think that taking a bath in holy water would’ve been a more enjoyable night.

“She was kinda upset, apparently, ‘cause she thought her Sire might actually come this time, but…” Clem leaned in. With a lowered voice he said, “They think he’s been dusted.” He leaned back, picking up another kitten-tail.

“Wait,” Spike said. He was interested, despite himself. “Penn’s _dead_?”

Clem nodded, chewing, before leaning in again. “And that’s not the half of it.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Apparently her _Grands–_”

“Spike!”

At the squeal of his name, Spike turned around.

And there was Judith, dancing through the crowd to meet him as her new husband trailed along behind her.

The Eighties music was explained, he realised, as he saw her ugly fuchsia dress and bush of curly hair. Her make-up was doing the same Time Warp, in heavy swathes over a base of caked powder. The foundation was about three shades too dark, as it always had been, and left a severe tidemark around her jaw.

She tried to kiss him on the cheek, but he ignored her, bringing his cup of wine up in front of her face.

“It’s so great that you came!” she said, unfazed. “You haven’t met Torky, have you?” She dragged the unwilling Grosnark to her side. He looked at Spike, eyes narrow. Spike looked back.

“Actually,” he said, “We’ve played poker.”

“No!” Judith turned on Tork. “Baby, you never said anything!”

“You know how it is, Judy,” the demon replied, looking embarrassed. “Besides…” He shot a look at Spike. “He cheated.”

“_Spike_.” Judith reprimanded with another quick turn of her head. Spike just smirked and raised his cup in toast, before draining it.

This night really was the worst he’d had in a very long time. And that included the one last week when Buffy had beat the shit out of him. That, at least, had been vaguely worthwhile, since she hadn’t gone through with that idiotic plan of hers.

Not that she’d come by to tell him herself, the bitch. He’d had to get it out of Willow, who’d been in a good mood for some reason.

The witch’d said something about a party as well, now that he thought about it. At the time he couldn’t think of anything worse than a night in with the Scoobies, but after this it’d probably be a rip-roaring good time. Especially if he made sure to bring his own beer.

And, all right, maybe Buffy wouldn’t kick him out. Not straight off, anyway. That’d be nice.

God, he was pathetic.

“…Drusilla?”

“What?” Spike asked, pulling himself out of his thoughts.

“I said,” Judith repeated, “What happened to Drusilla? I thought she’d be with you.”

“Oh.” Spike scratched his head, trying to tune out the sounds of ‘Like A Virgin’. “Well. I dumped her. You know.” He played with his cup for a moment. “_Begged_ me to take her back, she did. Said she couldn’t not live without me, and all that. But I told her it was over.” He coughed.

“Yeah, right,” Tork said. Judith elbowed him lightly in the stomach, and Spike glared.

“So, you’re single now?” she asked.

“Er…” What the hell was he? He and Buffy weren’t ‘together’, that was for sure. But he had no doubts that she’d rip him a new one if he did anything with someone else.

“That’s great!” Judith carried on. Spike noticed that she had some lipstick on her teeth. “I _must_ introduce you to Butzka. The poor dear needs a man in her life…” She trailed off, looking around behind her. Madonna continued to play.

Oh, bollocks. “Er…” Spike said again, as Tork smirked at him.

“Oh, look!” Judith began –

– but was cut off by that demon from earlier, Clem.

“Actually, Judy…” he said. She turned back immediately. “Spike and I’ve gotta go.” He hiked a thumb over his shoulder

“Oh, but the party’s not over!” Judith complained, distracted.

“I’m sure you want some time for just family,” Clem said. Spike watched, wide-eyed, as Judith visibly gave in to the soothing tone – and somehow managed to forget that he _was_ family.

“OK.” She sounded slightly deflated. “Well, thanks for coming.”

“Oh, we had a great time. Didn’t we, Spike?” Clem said, nodding and smiling.

“Oh. Yeah.” Was he supposed to speak now? “Hell of a bash, this,” he said without any feeling. “I’m sure you’ll be very happy together.”

“Oh, Spike!” Judith cried suddenly, releasing Tork to throw her arms around him. “You always were my favourite relative!”

“Er…” ‘The Final Countdown’ started. “Right. Bye.” Spike detached himself quickly and let Clem lead them to the exit.

Once they were outside, Spike immediately lit a cigarette. Not that he needed to calm nerves.

“Right, well…” he said to Clem, who was dusting his jacket off. “Thanks for that, mate.” It probably didn’t sound sincere. He wasn’t good with gratitude. He didn’t need it, usually.

The demon seemed to accept it, though, and smiled as he looked over. “Hey, no problem, buddy. Judy’s tried to set me up with Butzka before.” He turned serious. “Believe me, taking a nine-foot Fraknar demon to the movies is _not_ fun. And, I mean, who _doesn’t like_ Casablanca?”

For some reason, Spike laughed. And then he had an idea.

“So,” he said after a moment. “I know this girl who’s having a do…”

Clem hesitated, and then replied, “This girl… She wouldn’t be the Slayer, would she? You know, like last time? ‘Cause, uh, demon here!”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “I _hadn’t_ noticed.”

Clem looked embarrassed. “I don’t want to cause any trouble,” he muttered.

That settled it, Spike decided, still smiling. It’d do the Slayer good to see the nicer side of the demon world.

“It’ll be fine, mate,” he said, taking a drag. “You’ll see.”


End file.
